The ants are back, tiny collectivist monarchists scurrying on the kitchen counter. Not quite randomly and I suppose they do some good: they have already prompted me to check the crumb tray in the toaster, which was long overdue for emptying. I brushed out the inside of the toaster while I was at it, too. Shop elsewhere, you six-legged pests!
I dislike them. Tamara loathes them, with the white-hot revulsion of someone finding out her cornflakes have been colonized. By and by, we'll be setting out some tempting, tasty (and, oh dear, deadly) treats for them to take home to the Crown. They seem to be getting more wary with each passing year, but once I have everything else in plastic containers and freezer bags -- alas, no more twisting the waxed paper around a stack of crackers tight and calling it good -- they'll have no other choice.
BUILDING A 1:1 BALUN
1 year ago